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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25140580">Afternoon Delight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairyglass/pseuds/Fairyglass'>Fairyglass</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff and Feels, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Light Dom/sub, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:07:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25140580</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairyglass/pseuds/Fairyglass</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A lovely afternoon walking the Chinese Pagoda area at Victoria Park turns a bit spicey. Crowley reflects that, of the two of them, you'd never guess it was the angel that was the kinky one.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>246</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Afternoon Delight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Writer Group Prompt: PUBLIC/SEMI-PUBLIC SEX </p><p>The ALL CAPS very important. ;-)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You would have thought, Crowley thought, it would be the other way around, this. He’s the demon after all. The corruptor, the tempter, the one out sowing foment. </p><p>But, no. It was the angel that was the saucy one. </p><p>They were walking over a bridge on the west end of Victoria Park, the small island mostly deserted as they approached the Chinese Pagoda.</p><p>“No ducks,” Crowley said, craning his neck to look down the waterway, just in case.</p><p>“Not as many, no,” Aziraphale agreed, a forlorn note to his voice. He took up Crowley’s hand, tugging gently towards the more tree-lined pathway of the three to choose from. </p><p>By unspoken, but mutual, agreement they didn’t walk St. James as much anymore. Something about getting tyre-ironed over the head and kidnapped will put a fella-shaped being off it for a while.</p><p>So they walked the other parks of London, bumping shoulders (Crowley and his hips), buying treats (Aziraphale and his sweet tooth), and occasionally - as Crowley was suspecting now - snog in the grass. It wasn't exactly that he minded, just: you know. Would have thought it the other way ‘round, s’all.</p><p>Sure enough, soon as they went around the bend, pagoda still in sight but they themselves marginally secluded, Aziraphale tucked his hand into Crowley’s back pocket, quite firmly cupping his ass. </p><p>Now, this had been a trick the demon had taught <em>him</em>, and oh, how he’d stammered and blushed and called it inappropriate at the time. “Crowley!” Aziraphale had whined, shoving as much insult and injury into a single word as anyone in history ever could. </p><p>And yet, it was Aziraphale that was the biggest perpetrator of this particular crime. Not Crowley. It was Aziraphale’s broad palm that wormed its way into Crowley’s too tight back pocket to palm the swell of his ass at least three times a week. </p><p>“Hello,” Crowley purred, smirking as he clipped a sidelong glance over the tops of his dark glasses. </p><p>Aziraphale gave a gentle squeeze. “Hello,” the milk-and-honey sweetness to his voice incongruent to the handful.</p><p>Crowley knew the game, so played along. “Something I can help you with, sir?”</p><p>“Oh,” the angel drew out, making the single syllable into at least four or five. “I thought, perhaps.…”  He used the hand in Crowley’s back pocket like a rudder, redirecting their course off the path and towards a bench tucked against a tree and some encroaching bushes. </p><p> “You know, we should really discuss this public display kink of yours sometime. Really explore--”</p><p>Aziraphale made a tetchy, displeased sound, his mouth pursing into a disapproving pucker. “It is not a-- a ‘kink’. Don’t make it sound vulgar. I can’t want to kiss you?”</p><p>“You don’t want to just kiss.”</p><p>“Yes, I do!" A beat. "Well,” Aziraphale admitted with some amount of reluctance. “I admit I <em>do</em> enjoy the idea, just a little, of being caught. Because if we <em>are</em> caught, there's little to be done of it now. Our side, yes? The thrill without consequence.”</p><p>“Angel, that is the literal definition of a kink. It’s a kink. <em>You</em> have a kink.”</p><p>“I do not,” he frowned petulant. </p><p>“You do,” Crowley grinned toothly, swinging Aziraphale around towards him by hands at his waist. “But that’s okay: I like it. It’s naughty.”</p><p>“It’s spontaneous. It’s passionate,” Aziraphale tried to counter, already threading his fingers through the fine hairs at the back of Crowley’s head to draw his mouth down that fraction of a difference.</p><p>“It’s kinky,” whispered Crowley, more than happy to give himself over to whatever it was Aziraphale wanted to call his performative displays of public affection. </p><p>With as much grace as two teenagers tumbling into the backseat, they fell on the bench, Aziraphale’s hands already diving under Crowley’s jacket to ruck up his shirt. </p><p>Which was another thing that bothered Crowley: Aziraphale was almost always the initiator and Aziraphale always has about forty extra cocking layers which Crowley had to claw through just to even be felt, let alone reach skin. A walking coat, a waistcoat (pullover if it’s chilly), suspenders, button-down, vest, and then (finally!) creamy skin. Crowley had a henley or black silk and that was it. The angel had it too easy.</p><p>Which wasn't to say Crowley was complaining. Well, not exactly. As the benefactor of easy access, Aziraphale’s nails were already skating across the small of his back. Someone - <em>certainly</em> not Crowley - made a needy sound against Aziraphale’s mouth, yanking him closer to kiss.</p><p>Aziraphale dragged Crowley over his lap, setting the bench to creak, his hands hungry and possessive. This happened sometimes too, and this Crowley would never understand. Wanting Aziraphale? Sure. Absolutely. That was easy, who didn’t?</p><p>Wanting <em>him</em>? </p><p>As if knowing the demon’s thoughts, Aziraphale set out to prove a point, hand nimble against the ostentatious buckle of his belt.</p><p>“Angel,” Crowley whispered with a hint of warning.</p><p>“Shh, my boy. Someone might hear.”</p><p>“Someone might <em>see</em>.”</p><p>“I thought you liked naughty?”  Impossibly, Aziraphale slipped his hand into Crowley’s skinny jeans, his broad fingers wrapping around their mark with smug satisfaction. Fewer layers. No briefs.</p><p>Crowley’s gasp was sharp but quiet. He turned his face into Aziraphale’s neck.</p><p>“Would you rather I didn’t, my dear?” He always asked, always in that ‘cream or sugar’ voice that belied the slick and twist of his palm. But it also held his compassion, his affection. His love. Crowley’s angel turned out to be more of a kinky bastard then he ever suspected, but he never wanted to force Crowley - the <em>demon</em> - into a situation he didn’t want. And that itself pushed his hips up into Aziraphale’s hand.</p><p>Because Crowley was a bit of a kinky bastard too: it was just for Aziraphale loving him.</p><p>“No, no, it’s-- please, it’s--” His hips bucked again.</p><p>“Shhh,” Aziraphale soothed, making quick work stripping his prick. “Be my good boy and stay quiet now, yes? I think I see a grandmotherly type over on the other side of the island and we certainly wouldn’t want her to hear you scream my name, delightful as you sound. No, save that for me this afternoon, when I take you after tea.”</p><p>The matter of fact way Aziraphale informed him there’d be a more involved “round two” made Crowley whine into the multi-layered collar of the angel’s attire.</p><p>“You can’t-- can’t just <em>say</em> that!”  </p><p>But he could and he did and it too was part of the game. Crowley’s hips rocked and Aziraphale’s hand moved, all while keeping vigilant to any who might pass by while never missing an opportunity to coo filthy details into Crowley’s ear.</p><p>“Angel,” Crowley warned in a strangled tone and Aziraphale bit delicately on Crowley’s earlobe.</p><p>Crowley spilled hot into Aziraphale’s hand, pulses splashing up against his henley and making a right mess of things. But he didn’t care, shivering in the crook of Aziraphale’s arm around him until he felt limp and loose. </p><p>With one last kiss on his temple, Aziraphale tucked him back into his trousers and with the delicate scent of petrichor, left him as clean as he was when they’d stepped out of the Bentley.</p><p>“There now,” the angel said, bringing both arms up around him. “Wasn’t that fun? Thrill without consequence.”</p><p>“Hng.”</p><p>“I couldn’t agree more, my dear.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I haven't really written anything in 6-8 months, so this would be me looking to kick things back into gear. I know this is short, but comments always appreciated! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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